September 1, 2009 at 9:05 pm | Filed under personal, photos
Helga “The” Weber: 24-years old, wearing an alligator foam visor slash party favor meant for little people. By little people, I mean small-headed midgets (don’t most of them have physically bigger heads?) and/or persons aged 7 and below.
(I had to stretch the garter to its limit just so my 24-year old head could fit through.)
Sunday late evening, I had to run to the nearest provider of cheap Third World gadgetry; my mouse had suffered yet another fall, dislodging and rendering the scroll wheel useless, and making me curse the day concrete floors were invented. After purchasing an el cheapo retractable mouse (I really should invest in a more expensive one), I decided to go to the super bookstore.
Maps, I wanted maps. Lots and lots of medium-sized maps, particularly of Manila (how was I to know they didn’t make these?) and of Los Angeles (how was I to know they didn’t make these, either?), all to plaster my walls with. LA maps clustered together on one side of my wall, Manila maps on the other, and then lots of blue paper in between. I also wanted red paint or a red Sharpie, something to doodle on the maps with (I was planning on drawing hearts and dashed lines and then making paper airplanes and taping them to the maps on my walls). Somewhere there, letters made of cut up art paper would read: wait, they don’t love you like I love you.
I had it all in my head: a vision of teeny artsy-fartsy chuchu, something that the Tumblr teens would totally lap up (ah, I could imagine all the likes and reblogs), and it took a pair of traction-less sandals to keep me from skipping excitedly to the bookstore.
On the third floor are where the maps are, said a saleslady. Silly me, expecting so much from our local bookstores (but then, silly me for even thinking that such maps would exist). The largest world map (which isn’t even what I was looking for) costs 250 pesos. I’d have needed six or eight to cover an entire bedroom wall (and then that would be ridiculous as I’d have several Manila-LA airplane routes instead of just one big one) and I didn’t exactly feel like spending that much money on glossy, mass-produced maps (I would learn later that 250 for a large map is reasonable, heh).
Slightly dejected, I made my way down back to the first floor (with two rolled up medium-sized world maps taken out of frustration) and wandered the aisles. I picked up a bottle of antique red acrylic paint (whether or not my body will react badly to this, I shall find out next weekend), some face paint, and some colored paper. I made my way to the balloons and that’s when I saw that little green foam animal head. I squealed silently (it must be noted that I prefer crocodiles but alligators are just as cute…until they bite your arm off), grabbed it (it was the only alligator left), and went to pay for my stuff. I felt a little better.
I wonder what it feels like to be 24.
I might go back for the giraffe visor and wear it when I visit a Plano cosmetic dentist.
August 24, 2009 at 6:21 pm | Filed under personal, photos
(I can’t believe I’ve sunk so low to be updating this blog with something as mundane as my latest purchases (which has yet to include some tv stands for the apartment, lulz). Just trying to keep this little speck of the internets alive, folks)
A Neko/Nyan-Nyan hat (for Project365 purposes):
An Epicare stick (because we part German ladies are hairy and I have had it with tweezing (as I never have time to regularly visit the salon for threading)):
And these four-inch brown cage wedges (most comfortable four inches of added height ever):
PS: I’m on Tumblr!
August 17, 2009 at 6:50 pm | Filed under personal
Today, I had a Facebook conversation about Mafia Wars with my cousin who’s a college junior. Is it bad that I can’t wrap my head around the fact that she’s turning 19 this month? Kid is getting snappier, pretty soon I won’t be able to bully her around with my sparkling intellect and worldly knowledge that comes with my being five years older than she is. I mean, there was that one time in the late 90s when I suckered her into throwing away her M2M cassette tape (I think she burned it, too) by making up a story about them being lesbians (not that there’s anything wrong with chicks who dig chicks, cousin was just very young and very Christian back then and I hated da 2 hoz because they were dating two Hanson brothers). Though incredibly intelligent, she was very impressionable (and I was pretty convincing). I don’t think that kind of trickery would work on her now, though I am very tempted to, seeing that she listens to Fall Out Boy.
I feel like I need to do something shocking that would gain me 50 Cool Cousin points but competition is pretty stiff, seeing that her older bro—- who is a couple of years younger than I—- is a frat dude and has a second kid on the way.
Maybe I could bribe her with Stimerex ES.
August 3, 2009 at 6:35 pm | Filed under personal
Several days a week, my mom lives with me (this is me trying and failing not to acknowledge the existence of a brother whose room is right next to mine in the Anonas apartment that I help pay the monthly rent and internet bill for). It’s an odd setup that I’m only starting to— for the lack of other options, at least for the time being— accept. There are times I am unable to wrap my head around my situation: to be 24, paying to live independently of my folks, yet still thinking “I can’t wait to move out”.
But I don’t want to sound ungrateful. It’s great having my mom around and it amuses me how nothing I do weirds her out (i.e. I’m one of those annoying people who has taken to speaking LOLcat in real life. Some time ago, I was mildly surprised when my mom, having just woken up, gave me a little-girl smile and said “I has a headache!”). I have all these stupid habits (washing my underwear in one go, usually during the weekend), routines that can’t not be followed (cigarettes and two mugs of coffee for breakfast; a cigarette or two before bed), and senseless things I need to get done (my Project365). In the company of my former housemates (two nutty girl friends), I had no qualms doing whatever the heck I wanted and needed to do (sometimes in my underwear, sometimes in their underwear…no, I’m kidding).
Naturally, things are a little different around my mom. While I can’t smoke around her wearing nothing but a towel and my fuzzy pink house slippers (and raving about weight loss pills that work), I’ve managed to sneak in a few cigarettes while hanging out in the apartment’s smoking areas (the balcony and the little corner I have on the second floor). I can still scamper around half-naked (yeah…you needed to know that) and it seems that my mom no longer finds it unusual to see a funnily-dressed me, walking about with my camera and tripod.
Last Saturday, it rained. I had been waiting for the sky to come crashing down and I was sitting in front of my laptop, telling the internets how I wanted it soooo badly to rain, when it happened. Like a kitty suddenly snapping out of a shallow sleep at the sound of a scurrying cockroach somewhere, I perked up, sat up straight, and then ran to my room. I quickly put on a bikini top and my ugly yellow (because you know…Cory Aquino had just died and it was the simplest, most honest tribute I could think of) jumpskirt, grabbed my camera and tripod, found a plastic bag to wrap my remote in, and merrily skipped down the stairs. I think my mom paused from her cleaning to look at me, I didn’t bother to check because I was a little embarrassed with how I was dressed.
Like the idiot I make myself to be for this little project of mine, I started playing in the rain and snapping photo after photo of myself. Sometimes I’d run to adjust my camera settings. The door to my apartment (and the neighbor’s) stayed comfortably closed. Then my mom stuck half her body out to dust a rag, right while I was making a “dreary yet attractive” face at the camera. I froze, stopped what I was doing, and gave her a sheepish grin. She jumped in front of the camera and flashed a huge smile. I shoo-ed her away. She went back in and I continued with my silliness.
That night, when my dad came to pick her up, she told him about how I wouldn’t take her picture. A few hours later when he was up, I told the lover how my mom wanted me to take her photo. Cute, we thought.
July 14, 2009 at 8:46 pm | Filed under the internets
Remind me next time to double check everything I read on Chuva’s blog (not that I’m a reader, not that I’m planning on being a reader) because dang, she got it wrong:
Ch-ch-check it out:
My point is this: whether or not her underlings and friends continue campaigning for Divasoria/Grace (that may eventually lead to her/their fervent wish coming true), it has been proven (lol) that the Chuvaness Army (you know, those folks who start throwing personal attacks once they feel threatened) can be beaten. By— wait for it— some seemingly unknown’s (at least to them, most her readers are like “huh huh, who’s Helga huh huh”) buttcrack! And by my friends, too, of course. Oh, how I love my friends.
Truthfully, though, my friends did more work and were more effective than that buttcrack photo ;)
Screencap taken at 8pm tonight:
Tweeterwall may not ~crown~ me as Miss Twitter Philippines (darnit, and that was validation I was looking for!) but daaaaaamn, my buttcrack sure feels good.
No Twitter or Facebook accounts were deleted during this whole episode of internet dramedy. Oh wait! There were!
Flickr-Plurk-Twitter-Inferno-FAD-TMB Army FTW.
Now let’s see how long this drama lasts. You gotta admit, I sure know how to get people’s tongues wagging.
Hi, I'm Helga Weber and welcome to my personal site. I'm 25 and in the process of learning how to make adventurous life choices. I dislike old people but I love grandma clothes. My goal in life is to build a ball pit right next to my bed. Currently searching for the perfect house coat. My lover is the greatest. 
